encompass | ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏsᴛ 2019-2020 ( ɢᴇɴ + sᴍᴜᴛ )

[ also your fault, she thinks, but there's no bandwidth left to tell him so now that he commits to his grand experiment. his fingers trace in ways and to places she didn't anticipate would feel so different under someone else's touch. and when his fingertip strays high, teasing at her hooded clit, her whole body seems to light up.

her hips roll. her tongue darts out, brief, and paints a fresh wet sheen on her bottom lip. ]

—Right there. [ she exhales the command. ] I like it right there. Your finger.

Edited 2020-04-04 20:14 (UTC)

[ He thinks it might all be enough. A bit more of this vision of Peggy, almost entirely bare on his bed, twisting beneath his fingertips, and he'll come undone. When he finds the spot, the one that makes her breath catch, he focuses his attention there, soft caresses and firmer pressure. ]

I can tell.

[ she's becoming wetter, he can feel it. Out of sheer want, he moves his free hand to her breast, caressing the soft skin, her hardened nipple. ]

[ whenever she imagined this moment, she never imagined it like this—laid out like a platter for steve's eager, attentive learning. where her instinct might have otherwise been to suck in a sigh or bite down on a moan, not least of all because she's not used to having a whole house to herself, she realizes that what's best now is if she commits to every reaction.

and she tells herself it's all for the benefit of his education. every full moan and every shuddering whimper. he caresses her breast and new gooseflesh avalanches down her belly.

it's hard to know whether she's commanding or begging: ] Harder, Steve.

Hell, Peggy.

[ she's lovely, she's beautiful. Steve becomes quickly addicted to it, to her moans and the way her voice hardens, colored by her arousal. It's easy, so very easy, not to be shy, to dip his fingers, gather wetness and rub her clit, quick and hard. ]

You're so beautiful.

[ keenly, she reaches with one hand and grabs onto his arm—just above his elbow—as if she could keep his attention on her with this one iron grip. her nails dig into skin; her thumb braces hard.

—and for a moment she wonders how on earth he knows to do what he's doing. beyond her loose instruction, he seems to have some blueprint in mind. some suggestion he's following. she'll have to ask him about it. eventually.

for now, it's all she can do to writhe under his touch. she half-expects to come simply from his devout, determined ministrations. every rub of his finger makes her body tighten that little bit more. ]

God—yes. [ she praises him, half sitting up so she can search out his mouth and kiss him hard. ]

[ she's been patient so far but suddenly, something changes and she demands rather than asks, she holds onto him with surprising ferocity and Steve likes her like this, likes her taking kisses and the little marks her fingernails leave on his arm. In mere moments, he wears more lipstick than she does, his lips smudged with her signature color.

He knows where she's at, knows that she's close, he has felt it himself many times when he touched himself in the shower or under the sheets ( thinking of her, only her, her in her tailored suits and red lips, her in her combat boots; the smell of gun powder and soap ). He keeps the pressure right there; small, tight circles. He presses his forehead against hers, eyes open the entire time.

He wants to see her. ]

[ she's all a-quiver. every last nerve feels like it's humming—played to delight by his careful, caring fingers. peggy nips at his lower lip and offers sharp little nibbles. then, afterwards, as their foreheads tent...she looks him directly in his eyes. ]

Careful—[ she says soft-like, as though she's daring him to be anything but ]—unless you're keen for me to come like this. From your fingers alone.

[ it's wry, offered as a warning but meant has a suggestion: please, yes, make me come like this. ]

[ her eyes are darker, he notices and half wonders if his are the same, if they show even mere signs of how affected he is by watching her. ]

I want you to.

[ what does she look like, when she comes? What sort of sounds would she make? Would she become even wetter? Steve leans down, easing her back against the pillows, his lips are swollen and smudged red, his fingers are relentless, rubbing quick and hard, inspired by her threat. ]

[ —in a restless, wonderful state somewhere between arousal and absolution, peggy starts to think he's been a bit disingenuous in asking for her lessons. there's too much enthusiasm and confidence in how he touches her. too much imagination. it's not that he feels like an expert—far from it, she can read a sort of darling clumsiness into some moments—but it's as though he was already anticipating this little pop quiz.

like he knew he'd be called upon to play her like a fiddle. quick, dexterous fingers toying between her thighs. her back stretches; arches; and he resulting movement rolls her hips. there's a kind of swirl in the motion, like she's being guided along by the contact between his fingers and her clit.

christ—she swears, her hand fisting in the quilt and bunching it into a little mass. everything starts with a quake and quiver that builds and builds and builds until her whole body falls to shudders. a keen moan pitches first high, then low, and drags out to kind of rhythmic whimper as she bucks against his hand. simulating another movement—as though imagining him inside, pumping. as though her body knows what it ought to be receiving. ]

[ right there and then, Steve knows that this is how he loves her best. That very moment when everything comes to a climax, when she's overtaken by little quakes and sounds is his favorite moment. He already knows he will spend a lot of time trying to get her exactly to this place again, as often as she'll allow him. It's just that she's so very beautiful in that moment. Steve kisses her and shifts to lie next to her again. His fingers are still moving against her. He watches her, tries to find out when's the right moment to stop, when's the moment when the little shivers stop.

For a few moments more, he keeps at it, he draws it out. ]

Tell me when to stop.

[ wave after wave—sea over bow—a happy completion crashes over her. he takes her so far beyond the peak, like she's soaring in clouds above, and his fingers keep going. and she wonders whether the quakes will ever stop so long as he's touching her. strumming her. her spine curves and she curls around his touch, fingers digging into the muscle of his arm with a hesitancy that suggests she doesn't know whether she wants to stop him.

—but, god above, she's never felt this sensitive. peggy is gasping for air before she wrenches his hand from between her thighs and brings his palm to her cheek. squirming, fidgeting, she kisses his fingertips with a kind of quiet gratitude.

her eyes slip shut. she cuddles closer—throwing a leg around his hip and hauling herself near. ]

—Need only a moment to catch my breath.

As many as you need.

[ but oh, this is wonderful, too. She shifts quickly between two appealing states, the height of her passion and a sweet press of her body against his. He moves and rubs circles over her bare back, trying to help her catch her breath and settle her pulse. He presses a kiss against her shoulder, right above the scars he finds there. ]

Want me to cover you up?

[ apparently, he thinks they're going to cuddle for quite a while. ]

[ —all she wants is a respite, not a recovery. and although steve's gentle, coaxing touches are lovely and lulling, peggy isn't prepared to hang her hat just yet. she curls close, lipping and kissing at his cheek, before drawing back just far enough to look him in the eye.

she laughs, brief and low. ]

Why? You'll just have to uncover me again.

[ they're far from done. ]

That wouldn't be so bad.

[ uncovering her, that is. He smiles at her, at her gentle gestures of affection. It's such a sweet moment that he draws her even closer - he runs a little warmer than most, after all. He'll be as good as a blanket, at least for now. ]

Might even be fun.

[ to think that he might do this again, peel her clothing off and have her like this in his bed. ]

[ she's so tempted to melt into his arms—to say here, cocooned, until the end of time. sod the assignment and sod the world outside. until (of course) steve mentioned fun and her own appetite leaps at the suggestion. a soft, slight twisting in her core.

she breathes out. her body shimmies closer. she finds his neck and lips at the column of his throat—sucking a kiss that starts soft and gets harder, harder, harder. ]

I can think of a few other things that might also be fun.

[ good lord. where to start? except that she draws a palm down his chest, down his body, and idly kneads him through the front of his trousers. ]

[ he's not ready for what she stirs in her wake. His muscles twitch when she touches him, and her biting kiss inspires a shiver and a gasp but when she fondles him, he nearly jumps out of his skin, writhing and groaning her name. He's hard and heavy in her hand, warm even through the fabric. ]

Sorry.

[ he tries to relax, to remember to breath. ]

[ she savours his reaction. every syllable and slither. peggy hooks a leg around his, anchoring them together, and doesn't stop her onslaught of curiosity. her knuckles crook; she grazes the back of her fingers along the ridged line in his trousers. and at the apex, she thumbs a button. ]

Good God. [ she comments, quietly. ] What could you possibly be sorry for?

[ because she's enjoying every moment. ]

I -

[ he stumbles across the word, across a few sounds after, a hiss and a sigh and a choked moan. What could he possibly be sorry for, being the subject of her undivided attention like this? He watches her, her deft fingers, slender and clever. ]

Nothing.

[ damn, nothing at all. ]

It's already a lot.

[ her touch is everything. He reaches over, touches her hip, massaging the soft skin there, just beneath her crumpled skirt. ]

[ a lot, steve says.

peggy draws in a slow and measured breath—popping open the top button on his fly and working the next. she manages it all without glancing downward, choosing instead to continue looking him in his eye. ]

Too much?

[ she hesitates. but only briefly. ]

No.

[ he squeezes her hip, nudges her skirt up. She's gorgeous, soft skin and strong muscles beneath. Steve wants to explore her every which way. The anticipation makes his skin prickle and his cock to harden. He shifts, he arches, happy as he was to take his time with her, he's all restless impatience now. ]

C'mon, Peg.

[ it's nice—peeling away his patience and finding a maelstrom below it. dark eyes and darker wants, all culminating in a tell-tale twitch inside his slacks. his meandering touch on her hip backgrounds into something nearer a pedal note.

all her attention is on him. ]

C'mon and what?

[ she asks—all in a bid to make him ask. but she isn't so cold that she doesn't undo the second button, and then tugs on the zipper pull. ]

[ what, she asks and steve frowns, only a bit. After all, he's been taught that using any sort of language around a lady is incredibly rude. and he's peggy carter, asking him to tell her what he'd like her to do. for a moment, he seems lost for words. He blames her, her graceful fingers, the noise of the zipper being pulled down. he wants quite a lot of things, none of them he can put into words. not exactly. instead, he offers her a hint. ]

I found rubbers at the bottom drawer.

[ packages upon packages, really. he's only bothered to look last night. ]

[ aha. peggy exhales with smallish epiphany. so their mutual friend had indeed left him something more than turkish delights. stands to reason—and she might even look a bit pleased that howard's manipulation had indeed fallen upon them in more equal measure.

the zipper finds its lowest point. peggy peels back the edges of his fly and buries her hand in his shorts beneath—search him out heavy and hard in her palm, skipping straight to the moment where she wraps her fingers around bare flesh. ]

How thoughtful.

[ a brief, exploratory pump. ]

I suppose you ought to grab one, then.

[ good luck getting enough willpower to disengage and leave her long enough to reach the bottom drawer, however. ]

Or more than one.

[ she moves her palm an that one, small moment makes him twist towards her, quick and eager. It's good, it's so much better than his. It's her, it's Peggy, her fingers are smaller and he can fill the hints of her fingernails and it's enough to make him stir, push forward against her hand, seeking friction. ]

You're going to have to stop it.

[ there's absolutely no chance he can move like this. certainly not away from her touch. ]

—And if I don't?

[ stop it. she meets the flex of hips with a stroke of her palm, loosening and flexing her fingers around velvet skin. her thumb sweeps, touches, tweaks the head of his cock with an eager pressure before her hand ghosts back down the length of him. gentle(ish), given the relative dryness of the moment, but not without a purposeful friction. ]

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